


nerve damage

by Anonymous



Series: bad things happen bingo [5]
Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Corsetry, Jealousy, Love Confessions, M/M, Massage, Nerve Damage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:21:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22709176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: written for the bad things happen bingoG3 - Nerve Damagelacing a corset too tightly for prolonged periods of time can cause nerve damage, particularly in the leg
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: bad things happen bingo [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1633324
Comments: 1
Kudos: 152
Collections: Anonymous





	nerve damage

Geralt tugged gently at the thick strings, starting at the bottom of the corset and working his way to the top. He unlaced each crossed section, sliding his hand between the folded fabrics that had been held so tightly together. The skin under the fabric was warm to the touch and imprinted with the wrinkles from the corset. Jaskier sighed quietly as Geralt's big, calloused hand rubbed at the marks. He finished unlacing it and pulled the corset from Jaskier's body, folding it carefully and leaving the string nearby. 

He found the small jar of salve he'd picked up from an Elven mage not long ago and encouraged Jaskier to stretch out on his front over the bed. He scooped out a glob of it and smeared it into Jaskier's skin, digging his fingers into the tense muscle. 

"Heavens," Jaskier murmured. "That's lovely." 

Geralt rolled him to his front, and Jaskier flopped ungainly. He moaned, deep and satisfied. Geralt repeated the same process with Jaskier's chest and abdomen, rubbing the salve into his skin and massaging the muscles to encourage blood flow. 

"How's your leg?" he asked quietly, his voice little more than a rumble. 

"Mm," Jaskier hummed noncommittally. Geralt poked his side and he flinched. Still ticklish, Geralt noticed and was satisfied. "It's - it's fine."

"Jaskier," Geralt said, voice low with warning. Jaskier looked away, his eyes downcast. "Can you feel it at all, or is it hurting?"

It was several long seconds before Jaskier answered. "It's… mostly numb." Which meant it hurt like a bitch. Geralt had become an expert at speaking Jaskier's language. If it was something trivial, something easy to fix, Jaskier would complain endlessly. But things he'd done to himself, things that couldn't be helped, he kept quiet about. 

Geralt had been surprised, the first time he'd seen Jaskier in a corset. It had made him look much slimmer. More feminine. He only wore them for court performances when had a reason to show off. Jaskier had shown up to their room in the inn that night, mouth swollen and a little bruised and had tossed a hefty coin purse at Geralt. It hadn't been the last time. 

He knelt on the edge of the bed and shifted Jaskier up to the pillows, stripping him naked as he went. Jaskier didn't react at all, just kept his eyes closed. Geralt then took up the jar of salve and began to rub at Jaskier's left hip, down his thigh to his knee, then back up. He dug in his fingers and thumbs, then the heels of his hands, kneading the flesh first in small circles, then large ones, then small ones again. Jaskier made small noises of pain as Geralt worked, but Geralt didn't stop. Little helped with the pain and numbness he felt in his leg because of wearing the damned corset too tight for too long, but he knew this encouraged blood flow, encouraged healing. 

Once he'd discovered just how tightly Jaskier was lacing himself into his corsets, once he'd discovered just how much damage he'd done to himself, Geralt had put a stop to it. He began lacing up Jaskier any time he insisted on wearing a corset, ensuring it wasn't tight enough to cause more damage. 

He finally eased up with Jaskier's thigh, listening to the soft sigh. He smoothed his hands up to Jaskier's tiny waist, unnaturally small under his large hands. He could nearly touch his fingers when he wrapped his hands around Jaskier's waist. He slid his hands up Jaskier's ribs and chest to his shoulders. He eased over the small bruises the courtiers had left, groping and pinching at Jaskier as he'd passed by. He brushed his fingers over the fingerprint marks at Jaskier's throat. 

"It's not worth it," he whispered, just as he had so many times before.

Jaskier gave him the same sad smile he always gave him. "It is." 

Geralt turned away and slid off the bed. He undressed slowly, putting his things to one side. They'd be here a few days. There were a few small jobs the Alderman had for him. Jaskier could rest. Heal. 

"I hate it," he admitted, his back to Jaskier, refusing to look at him. Witchers weren't supposed to feel. They especially weren't supposed to have emotions as deep as love or hate. "I  _ hate  _ the way they touch you. I hate that you let them."

"What would you have me do?" Jaskier asked, sounding tired of the conversation already. 

"Not," Geralt said. "Do that," he finished lamely. 

"We'd earn a third of the coin," Jaskier said, frustrated. 

"I'll take more jobs."

"We'll never get to stop, never get to sleep."

"It won't be that bad."

"For you, maybe," Jaskier said petulantly. "I'm just a human, remember?"

"I know," Geralt snapped, jerking around to face him. "I fucking know. Why do you think it bothers me so much that I love someone so fucking temporary?"

Everything seemed to freeze.

Geralt felt the blood drain from his face. 

Jaskier stared at him, eyes wide and mouth dropped open. 

"You -"

"No." Geralt turned on his heel and pulled his shirt back on. He grabbed his sword. Left his armor. "I'm going out."

He didn't wait for a response.

* * *

Hours later, when he had killed all the beasts the alderman had requested and extra, when he had cashed them in, bathed in a stream, and returned to the in, when he crawled into the bed beside Jakiser, he wrapped his arms around his bard and held him close to his chest. 

He was small. Frail. Human. Mortal.

Jaskier pressed a kiss to his shoulder and chest, the only places he could easily reach. "I love you too, you great bloody moron." 

Geralt hid his smile in Jaskier's hair. 

It wasn't the end to their problems. It wasn't a magical solution. But Geralt had admitted it, and Jaskier knew it, and he returned those horrible, pesky,  _ human _ feelings, and things… didn't seem quite so bleak. 


End file.
